Retail Therapy? Not for the man!
Many a brave man has worried about the impending arrival of a credit card bill after his wife’s recklessness at a sale. Ironically, a sale is supposed to save money. Try telling that to poor husbands and boyfriends across the globe!
I guess there’s no two ways about it… Women love to shop. Which, if I were to be neutral about it, is a good thing. That keeps the economy running and gives the rest of us jobs. So if the GDP keeps chugging along because of pink nail paints and cuddly toys, we’re all for that (everyone except the Communists, but that’s a different story).
Men have their vices too – gadgets for one. But I think the difference is, for us, the end is more different. Not the means. We go into a Dicksmith, pick up our PSP and leave. For women, it’s the ‘experience’ that’s important. The process (did someone say art?) of shopping – trying on everything, comparing across multiple stores – that’s what gives them the high, and that’s really what differentiates the two genders. In this framework, the end by itself might become irrelevant. Basically, what I’m trying to say is – your wife has a stack of clothes that she’ll never use, but it made her feel good buying them!
One of the earliest comics I read which made me guffaw out loud was a woman at a supermarket holding up a huge bag of cat food, at 50% off. And she told her ostensibly worried husband: “Don’t worry, honey, we can buy a cat on the way home!” That perhaps sums up the female approach to shopping.
I’d love to parrot on, but I’m afraid I need to go; the missus wants my ‘expert’ opinion while she’s buying pants. Thank goodness for mobile Scrabble.
